


for forever, I'll be here.

by eymelee



Series: a case of you [3]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Dubcon for one prompt, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Inktober 2019, M/M, Multi, Smut, The Legion doing dumb shit + Jeff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-07 15:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 18,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20977811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eymelee/pseuds/eymelee
Summary: Inktober but writing! Each day containting the specific prompt from the official Inktober list.Mainly Legion + Jeff but other characters make appearances as well.Also hints at new maps, references for a bunch of other things, all the good stuff!





	1. ring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExasperantMadman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExasperantMadman/gifts).

> Each chapter will be like ~500 words, quick reads. Let me know what you think!

They have spread themselves on one of the sofas in Haddonfield, all the other survivors sacrificed as the hatch has been waiting open. Time like this was hard to find, so Jeff wants to spend as much time with Julie before they both would be thrown into the endless madness that was the trials.

It started innocent enough: cuddling and kissing softly, Jeff planting pecks on his girlfriend’s nose, forehead, eyes, on the corner of her mouth. As per usual. He did not expect her to climb into his lap and start biting at his upper lip.

Jeff keeps in mind the advice he received a couple of nights ago from Frank when he asked the other about his relationship with Julie.

_“Now Julie, she ain’t used to be like this, all bossy,” the killer started, taking a long drag from his cig. “Is not like I don’t love her like this too, mind you. But she loved me being in control, making all the decisions, in and out of bed.” _

_Frank then looked up at the sky and asked - himself, rather than Jeff - where and when he’d fucked things up. He didn’t get an answer._

Back to the present, Jeff wraps his previously limp arms around Julie’s hips and grips, purposefully trying to leave a mark. He knows Julie doesn’t mind as she always gives everyone hickeys with any occasion. 

He’s rewarded with the killer biting harder on his lower lip but smiling nevertheless. Thus, Jeff proceeds to reverse the kiss so he’s more in control, sticking his tongue into her mouth. It’s hot and wet, and then he licks into metal. It takes his brain a few moments to process things.

“Holy shit, you have a tongue piercing?” Jeff pulls back and marvels as Julie laughs into his mouth. 

“You never noticed?” She sticks out her tongue, the ring glistening in the flickering light.

Jeff beams. “I haven’t! That’s actually amazing, I always wished I had one of these but I was too chicken to get one,” he recalls.

“Really? After all the tattoos?” Her hands move up and down Jeff’s biceps. Even if he is wearing a jacket, she knows exactly where they are.

He looks into her eyes and God, he loves her when she’s like this: no walls to stop her knowing smirk, her deliberate wink and infectious glee. No mask to hide them from the world as she usually does. She’s like this with him, for him.

Jeff feels like sobbing. He instead leans in and kisses the spot in-between her eyes. Julie closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his, and she looks so right. Tucked in his arms, with all the time in the world available to them. 

“What if I get one now? Surprise Frank and Joey...oh, or we could match!” He gets so excited over the prospect of having a piercing that he forgets about the pain that comes with it.

Julie hums but considers it nevertheless. “Maybe Evan can help craft a matching one. And Lisa knows how to pierce with minimal pain, though it does involve the intake of some...questionable tea beforehand.”

“I’ll drink the witch’s potion if I must!” Jeff bursts, putting up all the bravado he could muster. Julie answers him with another kiss.


	2. mindless

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!” Jeff’s voice resounds in the clearing. A few crows seem to be disturbed by the sudden noise, but most are content in watching the drama unfold. 

“What? It’s a brilliant idea, ain’t it Suse?” Frank shrugs, looking up at his partner in crime.

“Ayup! He won’t notice a thing, plus we can snatch that stone much easier,” she beams, looking down at Jeff. 

Jeff sighs as he runs a hand over his face. He doesn’t know if he should be disappointed or shocked at the utter mindlessness that’s going on. 

A few perpetual nights earlier, Joey returned to their abode in quite a grumpy mood, due to the fact that his blade was getting duller and not cutting the survivors right. The Legionnaire and Jeff tried their best to comfort the man, and find ways to sharpen his weapon and cheer him up.

Back to the present, Jeff is amazed at the sole neuron that Susie and Frank seem to share. Frank is sitting on one of the logs scattered in the clearing, catching his breath as Susie is perched on top of his shoulders. 

Which is a totally normal position for them to sit in, all Legionnaires apparently possessing cat traits and relaxing wherever they want - in trees, on top of buildings, on Jeff’s lap.

What Jeff cannot comprehend is why his dumbasses are wearing a coat; not each of them a coat, mind you, but an oversized purple coat covering them both. A coat which slightly looks like the one that The Clown is seen sporting during trials.

“So, wait a minute,” he stars, closing his eyes. “You mean to pop in in MacMillan, meet up with the Trapper, somehow ** pretend ** you are Jeffery The Clown, and then what exactly?”

Susie offers him a grin. “And then, as I charm him with my flawless impersonation of the Clown, Frankie will snatch that sweet honing stone he carries with him.”

Jeff feels the headache forming. Julie was the one to suggest Evan as a solution to the Joey problem and when Frank heard the idea, he took an excited Susie with him to Entity knows where. Jeff is pretty sure Julie had something else in mind when she said _“just go get it”._

“Alright then,” Frank stands up, Susie jostling and grabbing on his hair for support. Once they are stable, she puts her arms through the sleeves and quickly does all the coat’s buttons up, leaving a small gap for Frank to see where he’s going. 

Jeff looks at them.

It is ridiculous. A 2-meter tall, disfigured _ creature _ is unnaturally tiptoeing around the clearing, small swears coming out from its belly whenever Frank bumps them into a tree. Susie’s long, highlighted hair outrageously contrasts Frank’s manly legs. 

“You guys won’t make it another five steps, I swear,” Jeff warns.

“Nuh-uh Jeffy, it’s the love that runs from my head down to Frankie’s toes that will keep us going!”

As if quoting Freddie Mercury would give them the power to succeed. 

In the end, they do make it to the edge of MacMillan, close to where the Trapper and his group usually reside. It’s a long walk, the duo oftentimes stumbling and struggling to gain their balance, but they manage. Jeff helps as much as he can, either directing or trying to coax them into giving up the plan, but the Legionnaires are determined to see it through. 

As the bootleg Slenderman approaches the destination, Susie clears her throat and gets her thick voice ready. Unforeseeable, a stray rock minding its own business decides it had enough of the strange pair and decides to topple the duo down. Frank does not see the obstacle in time and him and Susie end up sprawled all over the grass, yelps and curses filling the silence. Jeff can only imagine what’s going on inside the closed coat as the two attempt to detangle themselves from one another.

There’s also stirring from the other side of the realm. 

Evan, as a responsible adult who has seen enough danger in his life and wishes to protect his family, comes over to check out the commotion. He takes in the scene and is silent for about two moments before ignoring the mess of teenagers and tilts his head in question to Jeff. 

Jeff, as another responsible adult who has been on babysitting duty for too long, starts explaining the whole ordeal and moreover, kindly asks Evan to lend him his sharpening stone to help Joey out.

As a matter of fact, The Trapper doesn’t really mind others borrowing his items, as long as he gets them back. Jeff promises him a branch of petrified oak in return.

When the deal is done and closed, he drags a pouty Frank and an upset Susie back to Ormond. But hey, at least Joey gets to be happy for his knife can now cut through any thick thing or person. Jeff thinks it will never cut through the mindlessness that had just occurred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This ](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/628672525597016078/629038508748701724/two-kids-in-trenchcoat.png)is the image that inspired the whole prompt.


	3. bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ ExasperantMadman ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExasperantMadman/) likes this one the most, idk. Dubcon warning towards the end, it's vague though. 
> 
> All these prompts are inspired by the "universe" [ ExasperantMadman ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExasperantMadman/) has created, so you should check out the other works as well!

Julie felt the rupture that day. It was as if her head hadn’t wanted to be whole anymore, her lungs needing a break from each other. She felt the burning in her throat, spreading throughout her body, swallowing her up; then she shivered, jaw shaking, fingertips turning insensitive. But she hadn’t cried, she had just called it quits and went home.

It had been one of those gatherings that Frank insisted on going to. Exams were upon the students of their high school so Susie and Joey stayed behind that particular night. 

She wanted to make a statement at Frank's indignation with his other two friends. She wanted to prove herself, be better. Looking back now, Julie is not sure what she insisted on that night. Her loyalty to Frank, her undying love to him? 

Since he had been expelled, Frank took to hanging out with derelicts, vagabonds and almost anyone that was out of school and had too much free time on their hands. Not the best influences, Julie thinks now, knowing that Frank had been more gullible than he showed.

The two joined another group of four men - none sober - at a local pub for a couple of drinks. Julie had never been fond of drinking, and Frank’s tolerance was not that great either, but she obeyed his wishes, the desire to please outweighing any red flags that flew in her mind.

Well after midnight when the mood started souring, small arguments started breaking out in the bar. Frank, the bullhead he used to be, began quarreling with a man he stood no chance against, despite Julie’s attempts at calming things down.

And that’s when she was used as bait for the first, and hopefully last time.

Her adored gang leader, fearsome and adventurous Frank realized the shitty situation he had managed to get himself into and simply asked her. Not really asked, Julie recalls now, but more of a demand. 

“Keep them occupied while I get outta here,” he slid next to her chair and spoke in her ear. “Chat them up a bit and leave afterward, you got it?”

Flawless plan, Julie thought then, as expected of Frank, the intelligent, the mastermind. 

She hadn’t considered their entourage stopping her escape, only allowing her to go after “having some fun together.” Thank God the alcohol had blurred her mind to the point where she can almost not remember about that night now. 

But she does remember Frank not being there when she finally left the bar, his absence confusing her at first. Yet, the memory of him dismissing her the next day, as if nothing had happened the previous night still plagues her mind to this day. 

That’s the rupture which set things in motion: Julie decided she’d rather be the hunter.


	4. freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get married, that's it.

Holding a bunch of assorted flowers gifted from the botanist survivor, Frank makes his way through the beaten path to where he knows he’s awaited. His wobbly legs are moving to the beat of his heart, a bead of sweat trickling down from the nape, along his spine to his lower back. 

The killer is so focused on all the sensations aggressing his body that he runs into Joey with all the speed he’s accumulated, bumping into the man and recoiling from the impact. Joey, however, bless him, has realized that Frank’s awareness decided to ditch him and grabs him by the arm before the other can take a fall. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck,” Frank starts his nervous mantra, checking over the bouquet to make sure everything is in order.

“My dude, loosen up a bit, okay?” Joey tries to assure him. 

“I no, nope, I am not ready for this. I will die the moment I step into that clearing.” 

Joey sighs and reaches out for Frank’s head. He lays his hand on the crown, his fingers deftly smoothing and pushing down strands of unruly hair. It has an instant soothing effect, Frank’s breathing evening out and his blabbering stopping.

“It will be fine. You are ready for this,” Joey offers encouragement and playfully pushes his friend down the way.

The path they follow is decorated with countless tiny flowers and plants, varying in size and color. Frank’s eyes widen and he takes careful steps towards his destination. 

The further he walks, the more people he can see in his peripheries, killers and survivors alike gathered in the clearing. He gulps as offers them waves and small nods, acknowledging each of them.

His forehead is sweaty, and he sees Susie to his left motioning to his hair, probably going wild again. Frank suddenly feels self-conscious and he runs his hand through his hair, moving down to his face, partly blocking his view. 

When his hand drops, he knows he reached the end of the flowery path. He knows this because he freezes; body stiff, eyes wide, mouth agape. Because Jeff is standing there, a flower crown adorning his head, dressed in probably the most formal clothes he has, a wide smile playing on his face. 

Frank feels his head spinning, his vision blurring. He wants to cry. He feels like this whole ordeal is too good for someone like him. Is he crying?

But tears don’t give you vertigo, or make you lose balance, do they? 

In the next moment he knows, Julie is forcefully grabbing his face. Her mouth is saying something but he can’t hear her. He makes out his name on her lips, but there’s another word. 

“Frank, breathe!” Julie shouts, worry overtaking her. She is slightly shaking him as he makes out what she’s saying.

Frank dully notes Jeff’s shocked expression and sees The Doctor rushing to their aid but just before he remembers that he’s a living organism with living functions, the world goes dark and he is collapsing on a bed of flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, Frank sleeps throughout his wedding afterward.


	5. build

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this [ song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wvMfbfZKVbY) if you want to have a listen while reading this.

Frank waits for things to settle down, his partner’s breathing to return back to normal. Jeff’s been crying for quite a while now and the killer tries to offer him some comfort by rubbing circles on his back.

Jeff seems to appreciate his touch, and while his left hand covers his teary face, his right is resting on Frank’s thigh, strong and warm through the fabric of his pants; even in the toughest times he’s still thinking of how Frank’s feelings.

The wind picks up the longer they sit, the breeze gently ruffling their hair. Soon, the scattered pieces of paper at their feet take off and are flayed into the night sky. Frank watches them go and shuts his eyes.

What is he supposed to say? When it comes to being comforted, he’s usually at the receiving end. 

They spend a few more moments quietly and then Jeff finally stirs from his sorrow. He slightly turns to look him in the eyes, and Frank can’t. His heart had already been torn earlier when his partner cried and sobbed on his shoulder. He can’t look in the other’s red eyes without tearing up himself.

Jeff seems to pick up on that. “Hey, hey I’m sorry aight? I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit, too.”

Frank sniffles and shakes his head. He thinks of words.

Jeff took on an art challenge some time back. For each trial he went through, he had to make one piece of art, in any form. At first, Frank was excited for him and the artist felt good with each passing game. But recently, he has been struggling with coming up with ideas and when all that frustration got too much, he began ripping each sketch to pieces.

Today, the negativity culminated with him crying. Frank is not an artist, doesn’t know what possible reassuring words he can offer. 

_ But other artists can and know how Jeff feels._ That’s the thought that gives him a hint.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Frank starts. “You know, that blonde chick survivor with the guitar, she’s been serenading the outskirts of Ormond recently.”

Following a bit of silence, Jeff offers a grunt in reply, showing that he’s listening.

“There’s one she sometimes sings, about this boy building coffins, beautiful ones, y’know?” Frank sniffles again. “And the song says it’s a shame, ‘cus he doesn’t get to see any of them again, even if he built them, sunshine or rain.”

_“He crafts every one with love and with care, then it’s thrown in the ground and it just isn’t fair,”_ Jeff mumbles the last words of Kate’s song.

“Ya, like that. But, you’re different from the boy, you know? Even if you’d build, let’s say, an ugly coffin, you can still look at it. Hell, you can look at it again after ten thousand trials and compare it with a new coffin you’ve just made!” Frank's confidence steps up. “And see how much you’ve improved, y’know?”

Jeff chuckles, his hand squeezing his partner's thigh. Frank’s heartbeat picks up.

“I see what you mean, yeah,” his survivor says, offering a smile.

“Just so you know, even if it’s an ugly coffin, I’d still sleep in it dude. Just ‘cus you made it and it’d be amazing and I love you.” 

And the impromptu confession gets out just like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Florence is a well of inspiration.


	6. husky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reason why this work was tagged Explicit.

Mildly speaking, Jeff is not just flustered. He’s a mess of heat, sweat and short breaths, dilated pupils and Frank’s hair clenched in his hand. The artist blinks slowly, all kinds of sensations washing over him. And it’s all due to Frank being a horny teenager.

Frank instead, is having the time of his life. He could probably spend all the time until the next trial teasing his partner, any reaction coming from Jeff slapping a devilish grin on his face. He already knows them well enough: a yelp follows a bite on the inner thigh, a lick of his boyfriend’s navel is answered with a short huff, a kiss on the base of Jeff’s shaft makes the other suppress a groan. All the good stuff. 

Frank drinks in all his partner’s pleading as Jeff tries to muffle them. The killer reaches for the hand that Jeff uses to cover his mouth.

“Shh, babe, none of that. Lemme hear you out,” he coos. 

Jeff swallows hard and nods. That’s Frank’s cue to get down to business.

He starts with planting tiny kisses - never lingering - along Jeff’s member, working his way up. When he gets to the tip, he sucks and moves his tongue, which he quickly retracts and continues with pecks down to the bottom.

Jeff is getting frustrated judging by the irregular gasps. “You’re driving me insane, baby,” his husky voice resounds. 

“Patience, love. We ain’t in a hurry.” Frank decides to give something more, surprise the other a bit. He adds a slight touch of his teeth to his sucking, Jeff answering with a long whine.

He uses saliva to moisten out his partner’s member, making the suction much easier. Frank licks his way back to the top and dips his head down. 

The survivor’s right hand pulls on his hair while the other hand squeezes the cushion he’s sitting in. At least he’s not trying to tone down his sounds anymore, Frank thinks.

The killer follows through the movements, up and down with the occasional stop to lick the tip of Jeff’s member, which drives the other insane. Frank keeps working at it and moans cry out in the chalet.

He continues by rubbing his mouth and tongue along the prominent vein and Jeff shudders whole-bodily. He tries to call out Frank’s name and it comes out extremely needy, which in turn makes the killer huff and earnestly bob his head up and down, his mouth tightening. 

The killer knows the pleasure filling Jeff is reaching its endpoint, so he pulls almost out, just to the tip. His partner literally whimpers at the lack of heat. But Frank _knows_ what’s best in this so he hollows his cheeks and sucks hard. Jeff cries out. 

Frank helps Jeff ride out his orgasm, the other trembling through it. He uses his hands to push down on his partner’s waist to keep him in place. He swallows and gulps as much as he can, letting the rest drip down his chin. 

After Jeff catches his breath and calms down, his hand releases Frank’s hair and cups his face, wiping the excess liquid. He barks a short laugh and pulls the younger on the cushions with him, kissing him deeply.

Frank is amazed that Jeff always cares so much about him, about his feelings and comfort. He finally realizes that this is what the ‘normal’ is like as he rests his head on his lover’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this was hard.


	7. enchanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susie and Jeff have their little adventure. It's nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guess the map/ game reference in this, you get a cookie.

They find it by going through the recreation room, down a hole and up a ladder, past a metal gate. Jeff barely passes the narrow path between the wall and the grid, his body making things difficult as Susie sprints ahead, tiny build to her advantage.

The door is blocked from the inside, but through the cracks in the grill, they can see it in all its magnificence: a baby grand piano gathering dust. Susie bounces up and down, vibrating with excitement. Jeff himself feels overwhelmed, not having expected to see the instrument again in his life, not to mention in _this_ realm.

They find it difficult to get inside but Anna proves to be their solution to the boarded-up door, despite the metal grid. Susie leaves shortly to call in a favor and she returns with the Huntress and her axe in tow. Jeff feels sorry for the poor door, which immediately collapses from the few strong swings the killer provides.

While Susie is thanking the woman for her efforts and saying her goodbyes, Jeff steps into the badly lit room, a single candle flickering on the closed fallboard. The piano does not look in great condition and Jeff prays the Entity didn’t just bring an image of the instrument in this realm, but an actual working one. 

Susie peeks from behind him as Jeff moves the candle away and pulls up the fallboard. He breathes in relief when, from under it, the ivory keys are patiently waiting to be stirred. 

“Oh my god, this has to be the coolest shit ever,” Susie whispers, her eyes scanning the pristine keys.

“I feel you, damn. I couldn’t afford to play one back in Ormond, fancy finding one here,” he chuckles. 

Susie moves from around him and dusts the bench off, swiftly plopping herself down. “So, what’s it gonna be, Jeffie?” 

The survivor rubs his beard. “Well, let’s see if it’s tuned at least. Play what you got best,” he ends with a wink, which earns him a giggle from Susie.

He pulls a nearby crate closer and sits down, keeping the candle up as it illuminates Susie’s expression in the sweetest possible way. Her slender figure straightens and lithe fingers caress the keyboard, and Jeff can’t help but be enchanted by the way she behaves; as if she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, piano before her.

She settles for a short piece, Jeff can tell it’s Vivaldi’s _Spring_ as soon as the first three notes resound. He ends up humming alongside her, the room filling up with zeal. Susie turns to him as she plays and grins, clearly enjoying the moment. 

When he briefly closes his eyes, Jeff can imagine it: Susie, in a field of splendidly colored flowers, dancing and being spun in circles by him, the sun gently shining above their heads. Her hands wound around his neck, she would bury her face in the crook of his neck and he would feel her smile on his sweaty skin. He’d laugh and kiss her forehead and settle her down, then kiss her palms, pecking each finger.

Fingers that somehow managed to warm him up from within, all with a song and a smile.

Growing up in Alberta, he hasn’t seen much sunlight in his life, but since taken by the Entity, he clearly started craving it. But for now, he will settle for his small girlfriend fervidly tapping the piano’s keys and retrieving one spring day inside a damp, closed-off room.

When Susie finishes, she sighs contently. Jeff waits a few moments before commenting.

“Next time, I’ll record you with that camera we found, so you show Anna that her help bore fruits.” 

Susie laughs in the earnest.


	8. frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone give Jeff a break.

The most dangerous things you could do in the Entity's realm was to go scouting - due to getting lost to the world - and to be alone. As unfortunate as it was, Jeff was doing both. 

The Legionnaires were in a trial when the artist emerged from his own, Ormond uncharacteristically desolated. He hung around its premises before giving up with a sigh and making his way through the forest. 

He was short on supplies and even though Claudette had been kind enough to share with him, he needed to get his own. That's how he arrived at the outskirts of the swamp. 

"Plenty to harvest for everyone," Jeff mutters to himself as he pulls a butterfly knife from his pocket and crouches in front of a nearby bush. 

The cutting and collecting of various plants proves to be therapeutic, so much that Jeff relaxes a bit too much. He slightly dissociates due to the repetitive task at hand. 

It's when he strolls deeper in the swamp towards promising vegetation that it happens. At first, his foot sinks in the shallow mud enough to cover his ankle. The next step goes deep enough to reach his knee. 

Terrified, Jeff trashes around and tries to grab onto anything for support, but all he grasps is slimy dirt. It gets everywhere, on his clothes, his hands, some on his face and hair. He corrects his breathing and gulps down the panic. 

He remembers a long time ago, before the Entity took him, that blindly struggling to get out of a frozen lake does no good. He prays it's the same for muddy swamps. Additionally, he blurts out _help_ and _anyone_ and _please_, crying for Frank, any of the Legionnaires, Lisa, or anybody walking the swamp at the moment. Jeff does not want his end to be like this.

“Please, someone, I beg you,” are his last words as the mud begins blocking his voice. His ears pick up a faint noise before his eyes and mouth close shut, out of instinct.

He lies, unmoving, in the pool of mud, gravity doing its job and dragging the survivor deeper. 

Swiftly, a frail arm alike a branch rushes in and grabs him by the shirt. It tries to pull him out and Jeff - hanging on the corners of consciousness - moves his hand through the thick liquid and clasps his own fingers around the elbow of his rescuer. 

It’s a slow process but Jeff can feel himself going upwards, until the sweet breeze touches his face and he wonders if this is how the Demogorgon feels every time he emerges from the ground.

Once safe to the side of the dangerous spot, Jeff takes the time to wipe his eyes, successfully opening them to face his helper. He understands now what he has heard before being taken out. The sounds of a bell.

Philip is still holding onto his shirt and looks as worried as Jeff has ever seen him. A long time ago, when the artist had been spooked by almost anything ethereal-like, the Wraith was one of his most feared killers. Since he started hanging out with the Legionnaires, there had been plenty of chances to interact with other killers. One of them was Evan, courtesy of Julie, and by extension, he had been introduced to Philip as well.

And boy, they have been getting along so well. Now, Jeff feels his hot tears trickling down, washing away the dirt stuck to his cheeks. Philip’s other hand is holding a piece of his cape, and rubbing gently at his face. 

Jeff sniffles once at the attention. “You are a blessing, Phil, just so you know.”

The Wraith ruffles his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmmfhh I love the Wraith.


	9. swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five of Crows anyone?

Frank is the one to come up with the idea of redecorating the chalet, ‘just for a change of scenery,’ or so he has said. Jeff is skeptic enough since the whole ‘redecorating’ has turned into a full-blown contest of who-can-bring-the-coolest-items-back. Just like crows, his Legionnaires have been picking up anything shiny they got their claws on: firecrackers, necklets, chains and ropes, chess pieces, paintbrushes, jewelry and earrings, different colored cloths and blankets, a vanity mirror, a camera, a potted bonsai tree, chili, soda, some apples, moonshine and many more to top the list.

Somehow, different furniture starts making its way into Ormond as well. As Jeff drags himself home after an exhausting trial, he spots the flowery Haddonfield couch, a children’s desk and chairs and a chest scattered around the realm. His absolute favorite haul - courtesy to Joey - is the stolen letters which majestically spell **ASS**, taken on multiple occasions from the neon sign in Autoheaven. He’s glad that the killer asked for the Wraith’s permission before vandalizing it.

Julie is decorating around _ASS_, which is proudly displayed on top of boxes against the mural, as Susie is draping some stitched clothes over the railing, to block the cold. Some of the chains are dangling from the ceiling beams, looking as edgy as possible.

Frank slides up from behind as Jeff admires the place. “Looks good, no?” he snuggles his arms around the artist’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“I guess the whole place is more personalized like this, though the Legion mural already showed as much,” Jeff tilts his head on Frank’s. “We ought to take off those chains though, somebody’s gonna swing back and forth right there.”

“Eh it’ll be fine,” he turns and kisses his cheek. Jeff lets them get back to their business when another trial is calling him. With a quick wave, he’s gone.

When he comes back, he feels the cold seeping into his bones. Running in just a T-shirt through numerous trials did not do him any justice. He can’t wait to lie down next to the fire pit and snuggle with a Legionnaire or two.

As he walks in the chalet, the shadows appear different, and someone is indeed hanging from the chains. Well, technically, sitting on them, swinging back and forth. Susie is having the time of her life, as Frank and Joey try their best to push her. 

“Frank got the idea after you mentioned it,” Julie approaches him from the shadows. 

Jeff does a double-take. “I mean, that’s all dandy and all, but is it safe?”

Julie chuckles as she puts an arm around his back. “Not in the slightest, Joey took so many falls I’m surprised he didn’t break anything,” she shares with the other. 

Jeff rasps out a laugh as well and moves with Julie towards the center of the party. The other members perk up instantly when he gets in their field of view.

“Jeffie! You want a turn? It’s super-duper fun!” Susie beams and boosts herself faster. When the timing is right, she jumps from the swing and lands on her feet with a _oomph_. When she straightens, her grin reaches her ears.

“Nah, I’m good. I get motion sick pretty easily,” he ruffles her hair. “You guys have your fun, but be careful.”

“I knew that, about you gettin’ sick,” Frank exclaims. “Which is why me and Joe made another thing,” he points at two wooden pillars just a few steps from the swing. There are some metal clasps around each, the ends looking empty. 

The artist rubs his beard. “Is something supposed to go between them?” he deducts.

“Ayup! We are getting it done now, turns out the other Jeffery is good at sewing, so he’s making us a hammock,” Frank smirks as he presents his grand plan. 

While he’s talking, Jeff can’t stop his smile widening so much it hurts his face. Frank is just so *happy* in front of him, talking animatedly with Joey listening at his side. Susie and Julie are hugging him from the side and Jeff, somehow, does not feel the cold anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've seen Ormond 100 times in KYF this past year.


	10. pattern

“It’s like a cycle for each change you want to make,” Jeff encourages Frank as the killer sits on the roof of a house in Haddonfield. His legs are dangling in the open space below, the police car on the street illuminating their faces. The artist is sitting cross-legged next to him, leaving a space in between them.

Frank keeps fucking up, this much he knows. He screws up in trials, with the Legion, he argues with fellow killers and recently he got a beating from the Big Boss for misbehaving, probably. 

He didn’t mean to disrespect the Entity, but it felt good, to run around its trials, harass the survivors, sit in the basement with Insidious and surprise them at the more opportune moment, it felt right. For once, Frank had fun, despite his poor performance. But the big guy did not agree with his playstyle and punished him accordingly. 

Now he’s sulking, his friend (?) survivor hanging out with him to ‘cheer him up’, or so has Jeff said.

“Cycle or not, it ain’t easy,” he mutters.

“It’s cliche but nothing is easy about change. You consider and reconsider, you prepare, you do it, maintain it and as sad as it is, you relapse and keep repeating until you don’t,” Jeff rubs at his beard.

Frank snorts and winces, his wounds still aching. “Dunno how to find the motivation to keep going, y’know?” he admits sheepishly. 

Jeff seems to consider his point of view. “Think of it like a pattern,” the survivor explains, “you keep doing these steps, up until maintenance and you think, ‘oh shit, next step is a setback’.”

Frank hums in understanding and begins fiddling with his hoodie’s laces. 

“So, you get ready. You know it’s gonna be a hard step, so you prepare yourself like you do before each trial. And when that relapse happens, it just does. You grit your teeth through it, ‘cus after it, you know what’s next in the pattern, and it does get better,” Jeff exhales. 

“Guess you’d know, huh?” Frank challenges.

“Was it a bit too arrogant?” Jeff furrows his brows. “I guess it sounded like that, but here, if you wanna hear it.”

The artist tells the story of his father and the struggles of having an alcoholic parent. How he’d seen his father attempt to quench his addiction multiple times, only to sink deeper into it. He tells Frank of how he wished he’d known more back then, how he wanted to do more for his family. Maybe if he did, his parents wouldn’t have divorced and his life would’ve stayed the same, in the small city of Ormond.

“Hell, maybe if I didn’t have to move away with my mom we would’ve talked more and actually become friends!” A chance wasted but does Frank wish he got to know Jeff better before entering the Entity’s game.

They stay silent for a while, the parroting sound of the police car’s radio playing as background music to their thoughts. Jeff’s gaze lingers somewhere far away when Frank turns slightly to regard the other. He wonders if he provoked something with this discussion.

“You know,” Frank starts, “I don’t think you could’ve helped it. With your parents I mean. You were still young and if it’s something that I learned from being tossed to so many foster families is that they rarely listen, no matter how smart or right you might be.” 

Jeff seems to turn the words in his head. He sniffles once and barely audible, he adds: “Thanks Frank, means a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post these either 10 at a time or each every day. Thanks for reading so far, let me know which one you liked!


	11. snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are like super late with posting. Enjoy a Frank-centric piece.

When he thinks about it, during Frank’s major life points, it always snowed.

Way before he knew how inhuman life was, there had been a time when snow brought great joy. A daring snowball fight had always made him excited, similar to building a snowman, making all the neighborhood kids envious. 

It was before he saw his mother lying in it, body bent unnaturally, eyes closed and skin frigid just as the white around her. Frank looked up that day, to the apartment on the 5th floor he lived in and spotted his father at the window. Though, what he vividly remembers is the flakes coming down from the dull sky, as police sirens sounded far away.

If he were to tell about any event of his life, he’d start with “it was snowing that day.”

Each day he was beaten, spit on, starved or kicked out by the multitude of foster families he had, it was snowing. It was the same weather when he fought back, when he joined some shady circles, when he smoked, drank alcohol, vandalized and had sex for the first time. 

All was white around him when a junior approached him, cheeks red from the cold, asking him to let her tag along to wherever he was going - she didn’t care about their destination, as much as she cared about him.

When he picked the Legion members out, and made them loyal to him, belonging to him, it was a snow squall.

A snow flurry was going on when the clerk from the video store agreed to make them a mural in the chalet, Frank’s hands freezing as he carried a 12-pack up the mountain.

It was a snowstorm when the Legion hauled the corpse of the janitor up Ormond to bury it. It had been tough to work in such conditions, but alas, their traces had been covered successfully.

And when that night’s snowstorm had evolved into a blizzard, it was then that the Entity had taken Frank and the others.

It’s snowing now in the fake Ormond resort, and it has never stopped since they arrived. Frank thinks this whole ordeal with the trials does count as a major life event. Or a death event, more precisely. 

At least now he can have all the daring snowball fights he wants, all the time.


	12. dragon

"Great Goddess, Mother of the Dark, grant me the blood of my enemies for drink and their living hearts for meat. Grant me the screams of their young for song, grant me the helplessness of their males for my satisfaction, grant me the wealth of their houses for my bed. By this unworthy sacrifice I honor you, Queen of Spiders, and beseech of you the strength to destroy my foes,” Julie delivers her line with the utmost passion.

“Hold on Jules, why are you the one to sacrifice Diana Stoneswon?” Frank stands, his palm slapping the table. 

Susie and Joey audibly gulp from their spots on the sofa, trying to look elsewhere as the discussion between their two leaders gets heated.

“Excuse you, it’s all thanks to my Blindsense that we even managed to find her, and Mother Spider is thirsty for blood and if I don’t deliver, I have to say goodbye to this whole party and guess what Frank? You will lose half of the revenue we usually get after each dungeon,” Julie spits out. Frank seems to reconsider.

“Guys, guys, it’s alright, it’s just an NPC y’know?” Jeff tries to reduce the tension in the room. 

There’s a limit to what you can do in the Entity’s realm, besides running for your life or slaughtering for fun. So killers and survivors alike have to push their creativity to come up with something to do - or much simpler, ask the ‘oldies’ what they did for pleasure in their youth.

Role-playing games was their answer. 

Turns out the Legion were well versed into Dungeons and Dragons, and Jeff himself had been initiated into the art of GMing since he was a child, so here they are, with makeshift character sheets and dice stolen from one of the Badham preschools, playing to their hearts’ content. 

Even though they hadn’t had the necessary books or materials, with the help of numerous survivors and killers and their long-forgotten-but-remembered knowledge, they put together a Player’s book and Monster’s book. Books which, in turn, had been duplicated by everyone with enough time in between trials, or sometimes during them, and distributed to player groups accordingly. 

“Can we get a move on, my Shump has been thirsting for some real fights,” Joey tries his best to get the game going. “Fra- I mean, Falrion, how about we move to that other room, let, uh, Sabran finish her sacrifice in peace.”

“Fine, you blockhead Orc, escort me and let the girls share their loot covered in blood,” Frank finally concedes.

“Do you wish to separate the party?” Jeff asks, letting his voice drop.

“Separate if we must, for great loot we do seek, all that has been discussed,” Susie inhales dramatically “will greatly make us weak.”

Jeff bursts out laughing while the others groan out loud.

“Please never play bard again, I literally beg you,” Frank drops his head backward, his fingers idly spinning a pencil.

Susie pouts at him. “I’ll stop when you stop with your OP bullshit Frankie. Another Half-Elf Paladin? Really? Is the spotlight all you’re after?”

“Hey! Someone has to carry your useless asses through the dungeons, no?” he looks at the others - including Jeff - for assistance but he’s met only with silence. 

Jeff clears his throat and gathers everyone’s attention. “As your party makes a lot of noise bickering over the soon-to-be sacrificed merchant, it attracts the attention of someone - or something. From the depths of the hallway, an enormous eye opens, reflecting the light of your torches. Vine-like darkness creeps and lingers on the walls, coming closer to the room you’re into. Roll for initiative.”

The quiet that lays on the room is only broken by the pair of dice rolling on the table. The order isn’t as bad as they expected but Frank, who goes first, decides on using Command on the beast in front of him, action which gloriously fails at a natural one. 

Jeff hides his grin behind his hand. “The beast is laughing at your futile attempts.”

“Screw this! Joey, it’s your turn. Hit it good for me,” he clasps the other on the back.

“Nuh-uh, not so fast,” Jeff interrupts. He makes eye contact with each of them, as he taps his fingers on the table, to a specific beat, to create the atmosphere he’s after. 

Everyone is unmoving, staring at him.

“Now, legendary action,” Jeff smirks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's basically D&D. Here's what I came up with.
> 
> Jeff - GM   
Frank - Half-Elf Paladin (Oath of Vengence) (he's extra like that)  
Julie - Drow Rogue   
Susie - Halfling Bard  
Joey - Orc Barbarian
> 
> I'd come up with builds for all the DBD characters if I could.


	13. ash

They haven’t seen the sea before, or at least, not in the Entity’s realm. Since something does not seem quite right, Jeff wonders if they are still in its game or all is an elaborate dream. The fog has brought them here, but when they emerged, the mist dissipated and just like that, everything became unbelievably clear. 

But something is off about this beach and Frank seems to realize it too. The two of them are keeping an eye out, back to back. Jeff is facing the shore, looking at the pitch-black water, the crash of waves and fizz playing in his ears. It’s as if he’s looking into nothingness as if it wants to swallow him whole. 

“Something is wrong with that village,” Frank says as a breeze lifts the stark white sand. The colors dominating the beach makes Jeff believe he’s in an old black and white movie.

“Something’s awfully wrong about this place, doncha think?” Jeff looks over to where Frank has mentioned. 

There are old-fashioned huts scattered at the base of the mountain, or Jeff considers that’s what they are. It’s hard to tell from this distance, and also because the whole village seems to be covered by… snow? 

“If there’s a way outta here, I bet it’s there,” Frank decides their course of action. They carefully move, their feet slightly sinking in the sand with each step. Jeff keeps an eye out along the shore, but besides the remains of a campfire, the village and the mountain that stretch in front of them, there’s nothing.

As they approach the small town, the artist can discern some things such as the roofs of the houses, a decorative building placed at the intersection of roads, and the snow. 

His eyes widen as he inhales sharply. Frank turns to look at him in worry. Except, it isn’t snow, it’s ash. The whole village and some more are covered in the gray powder. Jeff jogs toward it to take a closer look when he spots the exact source of it.

The volcano. It’s a volcano, and it erupted at some point, decimating everything that stood in the way of the thick sulfurous clouds: rocks, trees, a village, people. Jeff runs, his breathing becoming erratic.

“Please, God, please no,” he repeats the words as he reaches the first building - or what’s left of it. The door is completely blocked and when Jeff tries to look through the broken window, he’s met with the same sight as the sea - darkness. 

His partner is there, though, placing a warm hand on his back and helping him calm down. Logically, Jeff thinks survivors of this tragedy wouldn’t even exist, considering this is the Entity’s realm. But alas, he’s just human and instinct does sometimes take over. 

Frank is rummaging for something in his pockets while Jeff catches his breath. The killer pulls out a lighter and uses it to make light at the window, carefully sliding his hand through an already-broken one. He’s greeted with just the remains of hot ash inside. 

“Don’t think anyone is here, but let’s have a look around, just in case,” Frank leads again. 

The scenery does not change much. Most lodges are collapsed, and the ones that are somehow still standing, are missing huge chunks of them. They are stepping on molten rock, now cold, and advance toward the center of the village.

The temple at the crossroads is intact and both of them stop before it. Jeff grimaces while Frank swallows, the place clearly possessing a personal identity. All the walls are covered in some sort of ancient calligraphy and a grand stone entrance spans before them.

Frank looks him in the eye and for the first time since they have come here, he’s uncertain. Jeff inhales deeply, the silence heavy, and nods. They have to see this through, whatever it is. 

A distinct humming is heard from within the temple, the staircase of which goes deeper and deeper, their way only lit by Frank's lighter. The killer leads them while Jeff clings to his jacket, the former's butterfly knife grasped tightly in his hand. The song becomes louder and clearer, though none of them seem to recognize the melody. 

The end of the stairs opens to a circular room, spacious enough for at least a hundred. Torches line the walls, while decorative pots are placed every few meters. The air is stuffy and hard to breathe, Frank needing to pull down his hood because of the heat. 

A dark-skinned man is standing right in front of them, his back at them. He's not wearing much, his hair sticking up in all directions. The stranger is facing the furthest wall and Jeff can make out a detailed mural sculpted in stone, colors and glitter adorning it. 

The man’s singing is interrupted when Frank calls out. “Hey there, nice song you got there, should teach it to us someday.” 

The stranger turns around and regards them for a few moments, his face blank. Just as making a very difficult decision, he turns away to observe the art in front of him, then promptly turns back at his guests. After staring them down more, with a hand gesture, he beckons them closer and points at the wall. 

They walk to the center warily, never taking their eyes off the man who contentedly admires the painting. When they are close enough, Jeff can finally make out more details; it’s huge, spread on the whole wall, each section of the mural depicting something else: people dancing and singing, campfires, whole constellations, boats and fishing. Then, on another side, a battle, spears and flames, blood drawn. What he failed to see at first, he sees now. It’s a phoenix, all the actions illustrated carrying out in the creature’s feathers, the bird engulfing everything in a circle of fire.

The artist feels Frank take a hold of his hand, breaking him out of his marveling. It seems that the killer has never taken his eyes off the stranger, who has, in turn, been watching them. His face is angular and his eyes burn scarlet, following their every move. 

Jeff cowers slightly at the intensity of his glare, but Frank doesn’t back off. It’s like an unspoken battle is going on, both the killer and the man not relenting. 

It ends in a draw, Jeff thinks. Frank suddenly grins widely and the stranger reciprocates it with a confident smile of his own. “I think you will really like this game you’re going to play,” his partner starts. “You just gotta know what you are looking for.”

He’s met with a huff from the other. “Vengeance is what I’m after,” he lets the words out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter heavily inspired by The Poppy War - R.F. Kuang if you know about it hmu.
> 
> I'll never get over Altan Trengsin.


	14. overgrown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rare ship m'lady.

He’s been there before. A vacant stare, dark circles under the eyes, lethargy, the whole set - Joey knows it. There had been plenty of depressive episodes he pulled through while he was in high school, when the expectations were high and he was keen on meeting them. Since his reputation was at stake, that’s when he was under the most pressure, the mask he wore in front of others more deceiving. 

Joey has recognized the signs from a long time ago and when the survivor he’s been chasing stopped midway to collapse to his knees, the killer hesitates for the first time. His head tilted back, chest out and chin high, he regards the bundle of anxiety at his feet. The guy’s eyes are shut tight while he’s shaking and muttering something. Joey makes out the words 'please' and 'Nancy' before crouching down. 

“Hey dude, you doing okay there?” he reaches out to wipe away the hair stuck to Quentin’s sweaty forehead. 

When the survivor does not respond, Joey sighs and considers just hooking him and be done with it. But some voice in the back of his head, which distinctively sounds like Jeff’s, is telling him to do otherwise. So, he hoists the boy on his shoulder, the latter not even struggling, takes him to the shack and deposits him on the basement’s stairs. 

The killer returns to the game, successfully sacrificing the other three, good enough for himself and the Entity. Yet, the trial has to come to an end and there’s only one way to reach it. He makes his way back to the basement, expecting the survivor to have come to his senses and seek out the hatch, which, fortunately, spawned right in the shack.

He’s met with cries and ragged breathing, the survivor leaning on the wall of the stairs - unmoved from where Joey left him - obviously going through a shit nightmare. The killer sighs dejectedly, his shoulders slumping and tries to shake the other awake. 

“We gotta finish this, man,” he speaks softly, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. “The hatch is right there, you just gotta go through it.”

Quentin jolts into consciousness and for about two seconds, some understanding crosses his face before it’s replaced by a blank stare. The more vigil he becomes, the more his face begins distorting, tears forming. A sob slips out and Joey has to look the other way because his heart cannot handle this whole ordeal. Sounds of soft crying fill in the building.

When it diminishes, Joey, unsurprisingly, asks himself the usual question. _ What would Jeff do? _ After some more consideration, he huffs and turns to the other, his hand reaches out for the survivor and pulls. Once he’s done with the maneuvering, Quentin is sitting comfortably at his side, head tucked in the crook of Joey’s neck while the killer is running his fingers through his hair.

A few moments pass and when Joey gets no reaction, he starts talking.

“I get it, y’know? There was a time when all these overgrown worries were tearing me down too, just like vines crawling up my body, locking me in place” he shares softly, now massaging the survivor’s scalp. “But you gotta trim them before they reach your mind, that’s where the important shit happens. If ya don’t, well, it paralyzes you and I don’t think the Big Boss likes when his players don’t do what they are intended to do.” 

They sit in silence for even more moments, Quentin’s breathing evening out. A sniffle later he tries to speak, only to start coughing. Joey chuckles at the attempt but, nevertheless, pats him on the back.

The survivor tries again, his eyes catching color. “I, thanks, I guess. I’ve gotten so much pep talk before but yours really struck home,” he inhales deeply as if absorbing Joey’s scent would give him strength. “The nap was good too, really needed that.” 

Reluctantly, he allows the survivor to at last detach himself from him, Joey feeling a little chilly from the loss. Quentin takes the cue to not overextend his stay, especially since they are still in a trial. He climbs the stairs to the top and eyes the hatch, turning and flashing Joey a smile. 

They hover around it awkwardly and when the survivor seems to finally want to jump in, Quentin twists around and pulls Joey into a hug, which is over before the killer can even comprehend what happened. 

“See you around, alright?” are the dreamwalker’s last words before the hatch closes and the mist overtakes the trial.


	15. legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bending all reality.

"What is she doing here?" Susie murmurs from her spot in the bushes, lying flat on the crunchy snow. 

"Maybe she's scouting for stuff, or maybe she's lost," Julie says disinterestedly, annoyed that her session of making out with the other is being interrupted by a stray survivor.

"Or maybe… she's running for her life!" Susie beams as she tries to keep quiet, not wanting to give away their position. "She looks skittish enough."

"I'm sure that at least outside trials the creep is not following her around." Julie moves to stand, brushing the snow off her pants. "But you probably won't leave her alone, so let's say our greetings," she pulls Susie to her feet. 

They push away the thin, multiple branches and cross the realm to the old tree which Laurie hides behind. The survivor is all eyes and ears, but both killers grew up in Canada and they know how to step on the frozen ground as to make no sound. 

When they are almost next to her, Julie lets her steps resound. This earns a dramatic turn of the head from Laurie, whose eyes widen, like a deer caught in the headlights. Julie thinks her white mask is the one to cause a startled yelp from the survivor, after which a blade comes into play. But not her own.

"Hey hey hey! Wow there, Jamie, we come in peace," Susie attempts to deflate the tension.

Laurie does not move, yet her eyes dart from one killer to another. Confusion creases her eyebrows as the grip on the knife falters. "What… did you call me?" she directs her question to Susie, not taking her eyes off Julie. 

"You are Jamie Lee Curtis right? From the Halloween movies?" 

Laurie huffs and puts her knife away, exasperated. "Not this again," she mutters to herself. Clearing her throat, she follow, this time louder: "I've heard about this before at the survivors' camp. That for some of them, I am a movie character while the name you mentioned belongs to the actress that plays… well, plays me," she looks over her shoulder to check her surroundings. "But I am Laurie Strode, that's whom I've been all my life. And in my death too."

Julie is silent but impressed nevertheless, at the way this woman is capable of understanding and accepting so much. She's more surprised that other survivors share their world - a world in which Michael Myers is at most a bedtime story or a Halloween costume. 

"Still! You're an absolute legend, ma'am!" Susie jumps closer to the survivor, pulling off her mask. "I've always looked up to you as a kid and gosh, when I first had you in a trial? Bam, mindblown!" She gesticulates her head exploding. 

The small talk continues, Laurie relaxing bit by bit, her shoulders dropping. She even smiles and laughs at Susie’s antics, because really, who wouldn’t? It’s when Julie’s nape prickles that she knows something is off. With a quick signal to quiet down, she surveys their surroundings.

It doesn’t take long to spot him, due to Michael being a massive man, white mask standing out in the misty darkness. With intent steps, he makes his way over. Julie steps closer, in front of Susie and Laurie, the latter ducking behind the tree, crouching. 

The killer is glad she didn’t take off her mask, because honestly, she’s scared shitless of this man who can probably snap her neck in an instant. Not that she would care much - it’s Susie’s neck she’s worried about.

“Yo, big guy. Fancy seeing you in our humble yet cold world. How can we help you?” Julie tries to employ Frank’s strategy of when he’s afraid: act like you own the place.

There’s no response, just heavy breathing as Myers stops a few feet away from them. Julie hears Susie backing off into the tree. 

“Looking for anything? If it’s tombstones pieces, then you’re better off looking over in the new map, the one with the obelisk in the middle.” Julie desperately tries to provoke any sort of reaction. 

She’s still thinking of what meaningless subject to tackle next when Michael shoves past her and in a blink of an eye, raises his kitchen knife and strikes the thick bark. Susie, which was next to it, skedaddles to Julie’s side. 

They observe the man glancing around the trunk, but unfortunately for him, no one’s there. 

“W-Well, that surely startled me,” Susie gathers her voice. “You got some beef with that particular tree? Do you want me to stab it too because I can totes do that!” 

Michael verifies the perimeter as the girls step back even further. They watch him pull out his knife from the tree, turn around while ignoring them and move away, the fog swallowing him. A plan with a man, as Jeff once said.

They idly stand by to watch out in case the masked killer decides to come back. Some crows cry out and take flight when Laurie returns. Julie feels something lifting off her heart.

“Nice job sneaking out there, Laurz, really thought that he got you there,” Susie jogs to meet the other.

Laurie raises a hand to scratch her nose. “It’s thanks to you since you bought me enough time, I appreciate that.” 

Julie falters at the gratitude but lifts her mask and offers a smile back. “Still, your brother has some strong fixation, doesn’t he?”

The survivor’s smile drops. Another topic she had to explain to a multitude of people. “Sorry to shatter your movie expertise, but we are not related, thank the heavens,” she adds bitterly.

“Yeah, I agree with you, Rob Zombie’s movies sound like shit,” Susie makes her way into the conversation. It earns her laughs from both women.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take care.


	16. wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one, inspired by [ this JeffFrank video ](https://youtu.be/hlpPpTDuLAo?t=33)

Jeff fucked up, in a way that he did not intend to. Their whole argument ended up with Frank screaming and storming off, leaving an infuriated Jeff to settle down his anger, realize his huge mistake and sulk over being wrong.

Now he’s at the stage when he’s trying to fix it. He doesn’t know where to start, he just knows he should. Jeff can’t imagine many people who did Frank wrong ever apologized. 

So he looks for a peace offering, anything that can get a conversation going while the other is off somewhere cooling down. The survivor is walking through the woods aimlessly, looking for something, when the whole universe aligns and he steps on a patch of wild strawberries. He does not know how to Entity even conjured up the place.

He crouches and digs around, harvesting the freshest ones he can find while devising his apology. 

“I’m sorry I’m such an ass, I had a terrible trial. No, that’s bad, just looking for excuses,” he mutters to himself. 

In the end, no matter how much preparation he’s done, the words still come out wrong. He gets flustered, his face heats up and his eyes turn red. By the time he finishes, he’s crying, Frank’s crying, clearly moved by the whole speech.

They wind up sitting on a log and eating wild strawberries.


	17. ornament

They return to the chalet, bellies full and minds drunk with zeal. 

The whole event began with a collective outrage that the Hillbilly, bless him, had never experienced Christmas or any jolly celebrations, which immediately prompted friends and family alike to put together the most extravagant festive party they could muster.

There was music, dancing, decorations, stories shared, dishes brought from Entity knows where and alcohol, plenty for everyone. All who participated brought something, each person additionally being in charge of different sections of the party: the ornaments, the entertainment, the snacks. 

After all of them had a Santa hat snuggly placed on their heads, courtesy to Laurie, after most of the food and drink were consumed, Kate and a few more, including Susie and Philip, set the music in motion. That brought the dancing on, and watching survivors and killers spin together in the clearing made Jeff’s heart burst with joy. 

He did not expect Bill, Evan, and Anna to loudly chant carols, in whatever languages they knew. Or Sally to be so good at the Boogie Woogie, Danny joining her. 

Jeff certainly did not expect but was pleasantly surprised when Lisa took it upon herself to share long-forgotten fairy tales to Maxie, Nancy, and Steve, the former sitting with his legs pulled together hugging them and sucking on his thumb. He was more amazed when Frank, mouth agape, was sitting so still with the others, completely mesmerized at their storyteller. 

Frank may have taken part in Christmas celebrations before, but he doubted the killer had been treated this nicely. 

When Jeff turned his head, he could spot Ashley and Jane stealing some time for themselves, whilst Meg was shamefully making out with Nea behind a tree. He noticed Claudette, sitting a few meters away, watching the two girls. The botanist had been oblivious to their relationship for the longest time and when the realization struck her features, eyes wide while doing a double-take, Jeff couldn’t help bark out a laugh. 

“It sure took her 10 minutes and 30 years,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The most amusing ‘show’ had to be Ace’s magic corner, where he spun cards and coins, making them appear and disappear at his whim. Bubba and Rin were laughing and clapping along, Adiris unimpressed at their side, but smiling nonetheless.

Some ‘retired’ quickly, Quentin already going through his regular nap, the Demogorgon chewing freely on his foot. A flustered Adam intervened only when the monster killer was half-way at gulping down on the survivor, Quentin continuing his sleep, undisturbed.

The party went on for as long as they could manage - interrupted only by the flicker of the campfire, Entity be damned. A unanimous decision had been made: only those who hadn’t drunk too much had the right to enter a trial. Amanda had been upset by this, but considering she could barely stand - and only thanks to Tapp - she decided against it. 

The Legion and himself also fell in the “banned from trials until a nap is carried out” category, so together they marched back home, each holding on each other for support. At some point, Susie had to be carried by Joey. 

They return to the chalet, step inside and somehow, there’s mistletoe hanging from the door’s frame and even though his mind is as foggy as the Entity’s realm, he grabs whoever is close to him and presser their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ i memed myself ](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/628672525597016078/634478768286597162/unknown.png)
> 
> more references to tv shows


	18. misfit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another short one but hey, didn't give up

“You goddamn misfits, get off me yard,” William “Bill” Overbeck shouts, cane in one hand, swinging it threateningly at the Legionnaires who have been tramping over his freshly planted bundles of weeds. Frank thinks that being a retired gardener in the Entity’s realm really sucked.

They snicker at the old man’s complaining, ‘kids these days this, kids these days that’. It’s so satisfying to tease people like him, provoking all sorts of fun reactions.

“Whatcha gonna do, old man?” Frank shouts from across the yard. “You gonna use ya smelly legs to teach us a lesson?” 

The joke is goodhearted, Frank and his gang having their bit of enjoyment before going back to their trials.

The laughter dies down when Bill ducks into his makeshift cabin and pulls out a rifle.


	19. sling

Fuck it hurts. Jeff knew pain, the Entity's game undoubtedly excruciating. Hits and hooks come with their typical sort of agony, but currently, his arm is tormenting him in another way.

He was in a trial, against Joey of all killers, and used his Deliverance to get off the hook when he was sure the other was not camping - which had almost never happened. 

When he reached behind him to wiggle off the metal hook, he felt his right shoulder pop, probably from sleeping on it the previous off-trial. As he came to the ground, his foot slipped on the muddy ground and he fell flat, straight on his shoulder. 

Spikes of pain shot through him, his eyes shutting off tightly. He growled out loudly, his other hand reaching for his injured side, and Jeff curled into himself.

Joey came back after a while, when crows had already started circling above him. The killer crouched next to him, noticing that something was not right. Well, _ not right_ compared to the usual _ wrong,_ which involves being chased like prey and murdered. 

The hooded man seemed to realize it was something that had to do with his shoulder while hovering around him. “Hey, did you hit that just now?”

“Yeah, fell wrong, but go back to the game, I’ll be up and running in a minute.”

So he said, but Joey knew him almost too well and his attempts at bluffing didn’t work. The killer left him, but came back soon with Claudette on his shoulder, proceeded to repeatedly dunk her and pick her up in an attempt to let her free. When the botanist realized her destiny was not to be hooked, she got off Joey’s shoulder with ease.

It took her all but a few moments to asses the problem: a dislocated shoulder and a few bruises. She worked quickly, asked Joey for the bandana from around his neck, the other complying almost immediately, and made Jeff a make-shift sling to use until after the trial. He then was moved on the stairs of the house in the middle and left there until the gates were open and they were ready to go. 

Now at the communal campfire, where killers and survivors like to hang around together, Jeff is sitting on a log with Evan at his side, the other carefully moving his injured arm around.

“I’ll rotate it a few times, you tell me when it hurts, okay?” 

Apparently, Evan is the best one to ask for stuff like this, his only medical expertise being to relocate shoulders. Jeff wonders why aloud.

“It’s ‘cause Philip is such a stick, his shoulders go for a walk regularly,” the other answers while focusing on the task at hand.

Jeff keeps his breathing steady, feeling Joey’s palm resting on his nape. The whole procedure is a bitter pill to swallow, but the other being there makes it sweeter. 

The fixing ends successfully, the artist carefully moving his arm around after Evan gives him a thumbs-up that he’s good to go. Jeff thanks him and is surprised when Joey goes overboard with his gratitude, spurting polite lines like ‘if you ever need assistance, let me know’ or ‘you’ve been of so much help, thank you so much’. 

Evan gets flustered at some point and dismisses them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evan is such a dad


	20. tread

"You should tread carefully on thin ice," Julie warns Frank as the other hops from a shore rock down the frozen surface of the lake. 

He pays her no attention and begins skipping towards the center. Julie follows him reluctantly, hands crossed on her middle, grinning mask on - contrasting Frank’s lack of. She agreed to accompany her boyfriend to this desolate place for a ‘friendly talk’, which never turns out to be so.

Frank does a dramatic pirouette and comes to a stop, inhaling loudly. He watches the treeline from which they came and Julie turns her head as well but she doesn’t let the other out of her sight, the mask allowing her this stealth. 

“I know ya watching me Jules, chillax,” the killer lets it out. “Look, I’m here for a chat and that’s all.” He puts up his hands defensively.

If Julie were a teenager, maybe a wall or two would have come down at that attitude. But her barriers stood for years and years, trials upon trials. The only ones who can pass through the gates are Susie and Joey, and Jeff managed to build himself a cozy door too, but for her, Frank had been stuck in the moat ever since before they were taken by the Entity. 

“Not exactly in the mood for our chats, babe,” Julie sweet talks him. Frank’s smile fades.

“You’re not exactly in the mood for anything-me lately, are you now,” she hears Frank mutter under his breath. “Actually that’s what I wanted to talk about.”

The mood freezes over or maybe it’s just the cold wind blowing; nevertheless, the two come together and reflect Julie’s disposition. She shuffles in place, doing everything she can to avoid looking at Frank. The other sighs and Julie wants to punch him in the face. She doesn’t know what triggers her exactly but before she knows it, spite bubbles from within.

“Lately? You think this is recent, Frank? You think that all my apathy about you and your fatass ego are from around now?” she spreads her arms as if embracing the uncounted feelings, repressed for so long. “Well guess what! No, no and no, I have hated your goddamn guts ever since you’ve thrown me to the fucking wolves, ever since you’ve driven away on that goddamn night, ever fucking since you made us hike Ormond and had us make that pact. I thought you’ve changed, you promised Frank, that night the mist took us that you’d try-”

“Babe, I swear I meant-” Frank does try to interrupt, only for Julie’s replies to turn hysteric.

“Don’t you ‘babe’ me, I’m so sick of your bullshit and empty promises and everything you stand for, Frank Morrison. You don’t get to talk to me about my cold attitude towards you,” her breathing is ragged at this point. “That’s why I warned Jeff, that’s why I sat him down and told him what to expect.”

Frank takes a step back at that. Julie knows that’s the real reason why they’re here.

“Do you want this, Frank? Do you want Jeff to turn his back to you one day, just like I did? He’s too good for you, even for me, I don’t want him to become this, a being ruined by hate just ‘cause you couldn’t keep your hands off,” Julie’s hands shake, tears trickling her cheeks, but the mask stays in place. 

She closes her eyes and channels her mind to somewhere else. Times like these make her defenseless, and Julie has had enough of being weak. A faint sniffle escapes as Frank clears his throat. 

“I don’t- I’m not-” he falls silent. Julie watches him as he seems to consider his next words carefully. Good.

“Tread carefully Frank. Jeff is like this lake in spring, he’s warm and welcoming. He hears and understands. I am like this lake now, frozen to the core. The ice does not forgive, Frank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so busy I wrote this chapter on like the 22nd but hey! never give up!
> 
> eyyy more book refs


	21. treasure

Susie hasn't slept since seventeen trials ago. There has been so much to do, survivors showing an unusual vigorousness in trials. Killers had to, of course, keep up with them unless severe actions were to be taken. The masked killer knew all too well about these punishments. 

You didn’t need to sleep in the Entity’s realm, but rest was highly appreciated by many. Even though they had been pumped with a sort of unnatural force, the killers preferred to nap or doze off every couple of games - besides Michael, that guy never seemed to stop.

But Susie can’t take a break, she has to do the work otherwise the Big Bad will have a word with her, one way or another.

Sitting on a log, the fire twisting and turning around the logs, the masked killer’s eyelids are dropping, then opening almost immediately. It doesn’t help that the Huntress’ humming makes her sleepy, the tall woman polishing an axehead as she’s waiting for the call.

“Doesn’t that get boring?” Susie asks, a yawn escaping afterward.

Anna sharply raises her head, pausing before her hand reaches to pull up her own bunny mask. Then, almost comically, she squints and focuses on Susie’s face, specifically on the bags under her eyes. 

“You should nap, _malen'kiy_, it does you no good to do so much,” she beckons the other closer.

Susie stands up and already in tears, moves to sit next to Anna. The Huntress’ hand comes to lie on her back and soon, she is snuggling her. It’s warm, Anna has always been like this toward the female killers and survivors: kind and affectionate like a _mother_.

That word stings and Susie whimpers, grabbing onto the woman’s shirt as her body is overcome with intense sobs. 

“It’s just,” she says alongside the crying, “there are so many nightmares, I just can’t handle it.” Her head is being patted now, the Huntress’ long fingers unraveling her mean knots. 

“Shh _sokrovishche,_ you can not let any dream be the best of you,” she soothes her. “Dreams are just like a cup of water, they can spill sometimes.”

Her lullaby fills the air again, and Susie finally rests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more tv references yay
> 
> The words Anna uses are 'little one' and 'treasure'.


	22. ghost

The dry baked ground cracks under their sure steps as Jeff and Frank cross the street. The moon watches over them, the mist only parting when the wind tells it so. Frank is trembling from the blistering cold, his lips cracked from the dry air. Jeff doesn’t seem to be faring better, dragging his feet towards the stone water well surrounded by buildings. 

A few broken-down houses enclose them, painted in different colors. A red wooden building lies abandoned, the gust creating whistle-like sounds by passing through the large gaps in between the boards.

“I swear Clint Eastwood is gonna pop up from that place that says ‘sheriff’ on top,” Frank mutters, leaning on the well’s rim. He eyes another building, this time made of red brick, missing a roof. A crooked sign spelling ‘jail’ tells them of its past purpose, the abandoned gallows next to it relating an even darker history.

“What do you think happened here? This whole place’s a ghost town,” Jeff keeps surveying the area, an imposing mansion perched on top of a nearby hill seemingly catching his eye. 

Frank spots something else, as he taps Jeff on the shoulder to get his attention. He points to another place, door missing, warm light spilling from inside. They approach it and the survivor can make out what the sign is supposed to say: saloon. Sure enough, a chandelier rocking four candles swings gently, creating all sorts of shadows on the walls. They step on overturned tables and over cracks in the floor and there is a dusty bar far on the wall, some bottles still standing. There is an upstairs, but the sound of a barking dog has the two flush out the building.

They have never seen an animal in the Entity’s realm - save for Kenneth’s undead horse and the Demogorgon. The sound of a dog was what had Jeff carelessly run in the mist in the first place, Frank sticking close to the other to watch out for danger. The survivor had always loved dogs and the prospect of finding one in this realm? Irresistible. Which is why Frank is keeping him company as the ‘adult’ of this field trip.

“I swear it came from all over there,” Jeff points to a far-away church surrounded by a cobbled fence, beyond the other buildings in the square. He sprints towards it and Frank can’t help but sigh, before following suit. 

At first, he’s mildly impressed when his jog is interrupted by a goddamn real tumbleweed, rolling grandiosely before him. The killer’s alertness dissipates as humor bubbles from inside. He never actually expected one of those to be real, the image of old Wild West movies fresh in his mind. Before he knows it, he starts laughing in earnest, a random guy stuck in a desert town, wild vegetation growing everywhere around him, cacti growing in the distance. He doesn’t know why it’s so funny.

His laugh has apparently angered someone’s rest as a gunshot rings out. His head whips around to pinpoint the exact source of the sound. Jeff emerges from the church’s gates as well.

“Frank, what was that?” he shouts, worry blended in his voice. “Did that hit you?” 

Frank is frozen on spot but he can see the gun owner near a ruined cart, six-pointed star glistening on his coat. He feels Jeff getting closer to take a look as well, but the killer stops him with an arm, making him stand behind him. The representative hat almost has him laugh again, but he contains himself. 

“C’mon babe, it’s high time we meet the Sherrif,” Frank says with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy I have never played RDR but Dark told me so much about it it's like I know the game


	23. ancient

“So you are saying that this box I saw in the hospital map comes with a thing you call an ant tent and it picks up a signal which some big company sends out, then recognizes it and shows you pictures and music from that and you call it a Tee Vee?” Evan summarizes, still doubtful of this whole story.

Philip asked them for help since he himself had trouble explaining such technology. The Legion too struggled at first, but some of them - Joey and Julie mostly - had paid enough attention in school to know how to explain it simply.

It’s just, Evan seems more confused after hearing it.

“Yeah man! And you can watch movies and the news, oh, that’s like the newspaper you had back in the day, but instead it’s a woman who reads you the news out loud and you kinda look at her talk,” Frank tries to make TV sound as exciting as possible.

Jeff snorts and Susie muffles her laugh. Frank’s nostalgia is contagious, but Evan is wearing an even more confused expression now.

“So you just sit and listen to her tell you all the scoops, instead of you know, reading it from the paper every morning,” he deadpans. “God, I’m ancient.”

Philip snuggles into his side and offers a reassuring smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to Google how TVs work because I'm dumb


	24. dizzy

He’s been going the extra mile to make things right, be _righteous_ so Jeff would be proud of him; that was it, no selfless or heroic reason, Frank just wanted the other to like him for his actions. The first step toward that goal is to apologize to this mountain of a man and the botanist standing in front of him.

They both regard him with a certain gentleness despite what previously happened and Frank is about to puke when he mentally slaps himself to get it over with. He clears his throat instead and talks.

“So uh, I’m sorry for my outburst earlier and I’m sorry for the bad words, that was really fucked up and I hope you won’t hold it against me,” are the words he throws up. They’re good enough, considering he had literally begged Jeff for forgiveness before he came here, and too many apologies bring down his sugar levels. 

The crows are the ones that fill in the silence with their cries, and Frank is glad he decided to keep his mask on. Baby steps, Jeff called them. 

Then, the sun rises in the Hillbilly’s eyes and his smile seems to light up the whole clearing. He jovially looks down at Claudette for confirmation and with a nod and a smile, Frank’s forgiven. 

He does not expect Maxie Jr. - he wonders how big Sr. was - to haul him up by his armpits like a doll and start spinning him in place. He vaguely feels like Maria from _The Sound Of Music,_ the treeline, rocks, and the botanist blurring as he’s being spun. Distantly, Frank can make her out giggling, laugh blending with the Hillbilly’s. He doesn’t know how long he’s played with.

“Okay Max, I think that’s enough,” Claudette claps once and the beast stops. 

Frank is dizzy as fuck at this point, taking one step and falling to the ground. The survivor is at his side in a blink, gingerly placing her hand on his shoulder, asking if he’s okay. The killer gazes upon her worried face, before looking down at the ground at once. He feels The Hillbilly kneel down next to him and sniffle.

“Oh- Oh no, Mr. Frank I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to spin you so much, I went overboard, I always do when I’m excited and please forgive me I didn’t mean to and-” the rambling is interrupted by Frank’s hand, reaching and patting Max’s head. 

What a way to apologize, so sincere. The masked killer feels his certainly lacked in that field. He retracts his hand to pull back his hood, mask going down with it.

“That’s okay big guy, it was a pretty fun merry-go-round,” he grins at him.

He ends up with The Hillbilly at the killer’s campfire, telling him about amusement parks and carousels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> references to [ AAAAAAAAAA ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378398/chapters/48329917)


	25. tasty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's just gossip

“Okay so, it goes something like this: Steve has been noticing a ghost-like guy haunt the upstairs of Hawkins and scaring the shit outta him with his heavy breathing and all that stalking shit,” Susie recalls excitedly. “So ya’d think, why would Ghostface even be interested in a low-life like Harrington, right? But here’s the catch, it’s cus they are roommates! Him and Nancy I mean, Danny is not into Stevie but into Nance!”

Everyone’s mouths drop open, besides Julie’s because of course, she knew. Susie comes back to their campfire once in a blue moon with juicy gossip and all the Legionnaires plus Jeff lose their shit.

“Wait wait wait, you saying Danny is into Nancy, but what about Jane? Weren’t they a thing at the Christmas party we had?” Jeff speculates as Joey nods solemnly next to him.

Words muffled by his hand, Frank adds uninterestedly. “Honestly, I think that celebrity lady is also into the journalist girl, she’s just really subtle about it.”

If Ghostface were there, he wouldn’t be able to stalk anyone due to the dense silence that settled over the group.

“Babe, you serious?” even Julie is baffled. “Like, in a romantic way or like in a you-and-Susie way?” 

“I’m saying she wants to fuck her, and possibly have Ghostfucker involved as well, the sausage in between the buns, so tasty,” Frank grins while the others let out groans. Only Jeff laughs wholeheartedly. 

As the commotion dies down and the mist clears out a little, Frank takes a swing of the beer they have been sharing, a commodity they don’t drink too often since there’s a constant fear the Entity will notice and strip them of their indulgence. This was the Legionnaire-plus-Jeff’s secret and it was only shared during gossip gatherings. 

“Hold on, what if they actually become a thing, like all three of them,” Joey looks down at his can. “Wouldn’t that be a bit unusual ‘round here?”

At that, Jeff swallows his drink wrongly and ends up choking. Both Susie and Julie rub his back in an attempt to help, and the survivor can eventually breathe again. He stares down Joey, tears gathered in the corner of his eyes from all the coughing.

“As if you Joe, or any of you have any right to goddamn talk! We are a walking five-man amorous triangle, a- a- a pentagon,” he says, catching his breath.

“Wow, like The Pentagon in _No Way Out_? I’ve always wanted to go there,” Frank adds, not entirely joking. 

A collective laugh emerges again, to Frank’s embarrassment, drinks are downed and more chatter fills the campfire.


	26. dark

In hindsight, Julie should’ve seen it coming. 

The pillow fort Susie, Jeff and herself put together had been a success. It brought back memories from the cozy Christmas day she spent at Susie’s place back in high school, decorating the tree and singing carols at the dinner table, then snuggling with her girlfriend, her sisters and her mother on their lawson sofa, surrounded by throw pillows and blankets. 

Susie came up with the idea to recreate that night with what they had on hand at the chalet: some dirtied cushions and random bedsheets, plus their pride and joy: a colorful quilt sewn by Lisa, a present for ‘the teenagers who live in the snowy place’. 

The night had been pleasant, Julie sandwiched between Susie and Jeff, the latter pulling out a compact book and casually reading from it. Curious, of course, both girls leaned over to check it out: a poetry book, received from Adam the teacher because Jeff proved to be an uncultured swine at their campfire. 

“Read it out loud, I can’t see,” Susie said then, while her head dropped on Julie’s shoulder. The other woman groaned. 

Jeff’s coarse voice swelled in the silence as he read the poems the best he could. Julie focused on the words while counting the embers that danced around in the firepit, the action lulling her to sleep, Susie already softly snoring at her side. 

Her dreams were in the dark. 

_Is it winter again, is it cold again,_  
_didn’t Frank just slip on the ice,  
_ _didn’t he heal, weren’t the spring seeds planted_

In this one, she’s behind a bar, retching into a trashcan, her stockings ripped. There are snowflakes in her hair and ice crystals in her heart.

_didn’t the night end,_  
_didn’t the melting ice_  
_flood the narrow gutters_

In this one, she jumps off her bedroom window, onto a heap of snow her Daddy shoveled during the morning. Julie hits it hard, rolls over a couple of times before she regains her balance; she’s still in her bathrobe. 

_wasn’t my body  
rescued, wasn’t it safe_

She fights Frank, slaps him across the face, nails dragging. He pulls his punches - doesn’t want a scratch on her face. Julie tackles him to the ground, strikes him harder, for all the bullshit he did to her, to Susie and Joey, for all the lies and manipulation. Frank hits back like she’s his equal. 

_didn’t the scar form, invisible  
above the injury_

In this one, she’s demanded to thrust her knife into the janitor’s lifeless body. Blood stains the snow, mixes with the tears that fall from Susie’s eyes. Frank shouts at them, calls them ‘cowards’ and ‘traitors’ but in the end, it’s him deceiving himself. Julie grabs the blade anyway. 

_terror and cold,_  
_didn’t they just end, wasn’t the back garden_  
_harrowed and planted–_

She wakes up with a start, flinging the cover and taking a good five steps away from her companions, her breath coming short. 

Jeff regards her with furrowed eyebrows, his hands held up to appear as less threatening as possible, terms like ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’ leaving his lips. His face morphs into Frank’s, same words being spoken, but Frank’s face becomes angry, Frank’s face is disappointed, his face is now aggressive-

Susie jumps forth and forcefully grabs her, pulling her down. Her girlfriend attempts to calm her, to talk her through whatever is happening, but Julie lowers her sight and all she can see is the hem of Susie’s jacket sleeves, the same ones she tried to hold onto when he wouldn’t stop hitting and hurting her - and everything unfocuses in Julie’s eyes and mind. 

She burns for a whole while, loud voices echoing far until something cold rouses her from the dreamy state. Jeff’s face comes into her view, snow gathered in his palms as he places featherlike touches to her forehead. Little by little, breathing comes easier and so does thinking. The first coherent thought that Julie forms is that she really hates poetry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The [poem](https://thefloatinglibrary.com/2009/08/16/october-louise-gluck/%22) Jeff was reading. I wish Jeff would read to me too.


	27. coat

"I am disgusted. I am revolted. I dedicate my entire life to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, and this is the thanks I get?” Joey chuckles absently but knows Quentin is referencing something. He’s currently too busy scrubbing the survivor’s hair with algae, a cheap but perfect shampoo for cleaning gastrointestinal liquids and saliva.

The killers have to train the Demogorgon against randomly swallowing up survivors whenever it feels like. 

Joey was minding his own business, coming back from a trial while listening to Susie’s tape, when a freaked-out Quentin, coated in something slimy and shiny, emerged from behind a tree and for a second the hooded man thought that they were in a trial.

His pursuer, the most recent killer to join their line-up, sprung from the nearby bushes, beelining for the poor survivor who was now seeking Joey’s large frame as shelter. Before it could attack its prey, the killer raised his voice.

“No, bad dog, stop that!” Joey dressed his voice stern, finger raised and hand on hip. “No eating survivors outside trial, you know that, right?”

The Demogorgon whimpered at the shouting and tongue between the legs, it scarpered, probably to find another toy to chew on. The survivor, still hanging on Joey’s jacket, thanked him profoundly while wiping drool off his forehead. 

To Joey’s suggestion, the couple made their way towards the pond adjacent to the Swamp and while the killer had been keeping watch for any more predators, Quentin began bathing and washing himself the best he could despite his eyelids dropping.

It shouldn’t have been so hard, but since the dreamwalker was perpetually tired and Joey did not want him to drown by accident, the killer - after making sure of their safety - stripped off his clothes and joined the other in the water.

He’s been holding Quentin against his chest, the skin on skin warming them both in the slightly freezing lake, the survivor’s hands limp at their side, completely exhausted. Joey hums while doing his job, dragging his fingers through the other’s scalp, washing and massaging at the same time. He is aware the man needs it. 

Times like these when they can be as intimate as they are allowed are scarce so Joey savors them to his heart content. When he deems Quentin clean enough, his arms circle the other’s waist and his fingers intertwine with the survivor’s, spending some time in peace. 

“Babe, it’s time to get out and dry,” he presses a kiss to his nape. 

It’s cute because Joey knows Quentin is not sleeping anymore, the tip of his ears crimson red. 

They are both surprised when just at the shore, someone built a cozy campfire for them to use, a paintbrush forgotten on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark: So what are you writing?  
Me: A cute post-vore fic.  
Dark: How is anything related to vore cute


	28. ride

Jeff uses a wrench he borrowed from Autoheaven’s garage to gently smash the car window. He hopes that the vehicle will work just as to how the TVs in the Memorial Institute do. Susie steps forth to his side, previously standing away to keep safe from the discarded glass.

It’s been on her bucket list since before they were taken by the Entity and Jeff wanted to help her cross it out. He carefully slid his hand through the broken window and pulled the lock open. 

A while later finds them comfortably sitting in the front seats, Jeff carefully explaining to Susie what she has to do. When push comes to shove and the killer steps on the gas pedal, they are both surprised that the pick-up truck does indeed work as intended. 

“Neat! I’ll keep it slow ‘cus this is still pretty new and I’d feel bad if I crashed or something,” Susie’s voice quivers as her eyes never leave the road. She slowly drives in-between the other parked police cars. 

Jeff laughs lightly, remembering his own first experience. “Don’t worry, I’m here, ain’t I?”

It is all well until a more complex turn has to be performed and it goes bad when Susie mistakes the breaks for the gas and just so they are speeding through trashcans and greenery, through a shallow ditch and into a cornfield until when Susie finally remembers which pedal she’s supposed to push. 

They both let out a relieved breath when the vehicle comes to a halt. When the dust settles, Jeff muffles his incoming giggles with his hand, which turn into loud cackling, so much that his stomach hurts. Susie looks incredulously at him and mouths ‘what the fuck’ as she slaps his knee. She starts laughing as well.

The mood is light and the headlights are dark, it’s just them in a stolen car stuck on a cornfield, one window allowing the wind to march into their hairs. 

Then, from across the field, opposing headlights turn on and turn off in the blink of an eye. Both Susie and Jeff freeze, not being aware of another car in their vicinity. They don’t dare to move, but the other car does. 

It runs slowly towards their own as Susie rolls down the side window, trying to catch a glimpse of the driver. Passing through is another pick-up truck, this time green, Michael Myers casually rolling past, not giving them any regard whatsoever, going towards Entity knows where. 

To this day, Susie and Jeff wonder if they were part of an elaborate dream. What a wild ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably tell I don't drive.  
I asked my driver friend "What do you do after you turn the key?"  
Him: You put your seat-belt. Aiight


	29. injured

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost so much sleep over this.

“But babe, I’m injured!” Frank whines as Jeff drags his boyfriend to the killer campfire, or as far as is allowed to, The Entity usually blocking the area surrounding the predators, for good reason. 

Due to Frank being a fidgety bastard, their chalet’s furniture has been moved around just for the kicks of it when everyone else was away. It has been a nice change of scenery nevertheless, if only his idiot boyfriend hadn’t dropped a ridiculously heavy armchair on his foot - which further resulted in the rest of the Legionnaires plus Jeff catering to his every exaggerated need.

“You’re fine and if you go in a trial, you’ll heal right up,” Jeff encourages as he rolls his eyes. One more moment of an obnoxious Frank in Ormond and Julie would have pulled a knife. 

They approach the killers’ firepit and Jeff can make out some of them from the distance. He’s sure the tall one is Philip, while another figure standing by a tree looks awfully similar to the Plague. They keep walking while Frank runs his mouth.

They march slowly, Jeff unfocused and idly listening, up until the survivor can feel the heat of the fire, the embers flying in all directions and that’s when he realizes something is off. 

“Ain’t you a bit close to us, lad?” Evan’s gruff voice comes from behind the fire, his arms crossed. Jeff snaps to attention almost instantly. 

Frank also seems to pick up on the issue, a tad late considering his chatter is what distracted the survivor in the first place. The killer comfortably sits on a log but watches his partner carefully.

Jeff has no fucking clue what’s going on. Sure, Frank managed to sneak his way into the survivor’s campfire before but considering he’s practically as powerless as them outside trial, the barrier never stopped him. 

Why didn’t it stop Jeff from stepping into the killer camp, though?

And so, Jeff does something that he harshly learns he should never do again. Turning around, he gazes into the flames and up at the smoke that the blaze releases. Before he knows it, the smoke is mist, damp on his skin and his eyes unfocus. He vaguely hears Frank shouting after him. 

He stirs on a moldy mattress in a basement and his delayed brain supplements that he’s in the preschool map. The situation doesn’t seem right but as survivor instincts kick in, he makes his way up the stairs and outside to start on a generator.

“Where the fuck is everyone?” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he walks around. Usually, he’d spot one or two other survivors running around or he’d at least hear the terror radius. But there’s nothing. 

It’s eerily silent for a while but Jeff has keen hearing since pre-Entity, which allows him to hear the footfalls getting near. He meets a reluctant Claudette, whose eyes are wide and blinking rapidly, hand over her heart. 

“Jeff, what happened?” is what she mouths, but he can’t really hear her, her voice replaced with a strange chirpy noise. 

“I can’t hear what you’re saying,” he tries, but judging by Claudette’s terrified reaction, it seems as if she can’t understand him either. 

The other survivors show up on the street: Jake is standing close to Claudette, brows furrowed, while Nea and Meg regard him from further away. It hits him like a hammer. There’s four of them, four survivors with him, and he’s the fifth. At this point, he’s certain he fucked something up by going in a trial through the killers camp. 

One way to test it out, Jeff springs towards a generator, ignoring how his friends guard themselves instantly, just like rabbits. He tries to touch it, to repair it, he did it thousands of times before, but the most the artist can do is break and make sparks fly out of it. 

“Oh fuck, oh shit,” he lays his palms on the pavement, to ground himself. It’s just a mistake, in the end. To fix it, he has to follow the rules: complete the game and leave through the fire he arrived. 

Jeff lets the trial follow its course, Claudette and the others hastily repairing the gens. Once the gates are powered, he waves them goodbye, the survivors not looking back. He hopes he can explain this whole ordeal to them soon.

But *soon* does not come. Soon bleeds into another trial, other friends he has to frighten with his terror radius, has to watch them go. Soon becomes maybe, and maybe turns to never when game after game Jeff slowly loses hope. At this point, he has seen everyone: all the survivors, in mixed teams as well, all the realms and their variations. 

He loses count of the interminable times he opens his eyes and doesn’t see fire. 

It carries on up until he spawns in Ormond again, the cold but familiar sight alleviating him a bit. A few steps are taken towards the chalet, nostalgia encasing him, an illusion of the Legionnaires playing in his eyes. God, he misses them. He sees Susie and Joey, sitting against each other on the sofa, smiling at him. He spots his sweet Julie, laid out by the fire, waving him closer. He takes a few more steps in, he wants to be with them so much. And then there’s Frank, mask off and eyes glowing, coming closer and reaching for his face. 

The last one is real, Jeff grasps as his frozen lips meet the other’s. There’s no more care he has in this world; everything fuzzes out when he returns what seems an eternity translated into kisses. 

Frank breaks from him, mouthing ‘it’s okay’ and running his fingers through Jeff’s hair. His lover takes him by the hand and while the artist loves the gesture, his heart rate picks up when he can feel a closed butterfly knife held in his palm.

He knows what Frank is trying to do. “No, babe, please,” he pleads, but the hooded killer-turned-survivor forcefully grabs his arm and uses it to stab himself in the stomach. Before Jeff can even process what happened, he does it again, which instantly downs him, Frank collapsing to the floor as Jeff kneels next to him.

The words ‘hook, hook’ appear on Frank’s lips, but Jeff can’t bring himself to. He’s still holding his boyfriend’s hand, blood trickling down. The artist closes his eyes and turns numb. 

His stalling ceases when Frank grabs onto him and crawls on his shoulder. Jeff cannot hear words as a killer, but he can listen to grunts and cries of pain. It’s unbearable yet, he remembers his survivor days and hurries into action. Being let to bleed out was one of the toughest experiences. 

When they step out on the snow, the Legionnaire hanging on the artist’s shoulder, Jeff is surprised at how much strength he has. Hauling Frank to the killers’ campfire that fateful evening had been difficult, yet now the latter is as light as a feather. 

Truthfully, he attempts to be gentle when placing the other on the rusty hook, the metal piercing Frank with a scream. 

“I’m sorry,” Jeff conveys, head dropping. He hovers nearby as Frank attempts to struggle, which ends unsuccessfully. 

It’s painful to see a sacrifice from this point of view, the Entity’s claws descending from above and claiming Frank’s soul. Jeff wonders how can killers manage to see their loved ones taken in such a way. His heart is bursting with remorse. 

The artist dissociates after Frank’s sacrifice, his vision blurring. The alarms of the gates are blaring but he couldn’t care less as the mist envelops everything and he passes out. 

He wakes to a cool hand on his forehead, his head supported by scrawny thighs. He opens his eyelids to face Philip, whose expression is a mix of worry and anger. Jeff turns his head to his left, only to be met with the sight of a campfire, and just next to it, his idiot boyfriend crouching and warming his hands. 

“Frank,” he forces his voice out and the killer’s head snaps to him. Promptly, his lover is at this side, reaching for a hug and a kiss and Jeff finally gets his long-deserved break.


	30. catch

“If I run and leap at Jeff, he will most certainly catch me,” Frank says to her, legs resting in his lap. He’s been massaging her calves while waiting for their boyfriend to come back from his trial. 

Julie hums, eyes closed. Pain shot through her legs a couple of trials ago and ever since, she’s been taking it easy. Frank staying at her side for comfort was what she needed but now, it’s Jeff’s presence that she craves. 

“I bet you two beers that when I run at him, he drops you for me?” she challenges, Frank’s smirk contesting hers. 

They wait in content silence until steps are heard outside. On cue, the chalet’s heavy wooden door swings open, Jeff’s head peering inside, snow powdering his hair. It’s adorable, the moment when his eyes land on both of them, a large smile illuminates his face and Julie can’t feel any more pain in her legs. 

Frank starts detangling himself from her while Jeff approaches the sofa they are laid out on. With a hand, the killer motions his boyfriend to stop coming closer. Confusion plays on Jeff’s face, but he appears intrigued at what’s about to happen. 

With no warning whatsoever, Frank sprints the few steps of the floor and throws himself at the other man, promptly being caught by the artist. Jeff recoils at the impact but soon regains his balance with a huff. 

“What’s up with you, kitty cat?” he playfully-mocks as Frank presses a kiss to his forehead.

Now, the fun begins. Julie stands, arms crossed, considering the mischievous killer who stares back. Then, her eyes fly at a bemused Jeff, who, smart as he is, figures out what’s about to happen.

Julie dashes towards the pair, adrenaline thumping in her body. 

“Coming in!” she shouts to Jeff’s desperate _‘No! I’m holding Frank!’_

He does catch her with an *oomph*, but not as Julie had expected. Instead of dropping his boyfriend, Jeff manages to lower himself enough to stack her onto the other killer’s body, her landing taking both of their breaths away - literally. 

It doesn’t take long until Jeff collapses from all the weight and the three tumble down to the floor. Genuine laughter saturates the trio and that’s the best medicine Julie could ask for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for this meme


	31. ripe

In his life, Jeff had met plenty of people bearing an awful lot - be it his parents, friends, the Legion, survivors and killers equally. He had tried to offer any help he could, sometimes successful, other times failing. The artist still tries to be positive, despite not being able to do anything right now.

With one look at the new guy at the campfire, Jeff knew it wouldn’t be easy. The new survivor doesn’t even seem to comprehend his greetings, instead, a hollow look gratifies his face. 

The artist glances over at Frank, who in turn shrugs. They’ve been trying to initiate any sort of conversation but to no avail. New killers and survivors often came in pairs or have some sort of connection - take Jeff and the Legion for example. It’s essential for future trials and the peace of the outside-trial realm for everyone to interact, even with the less pleasant people. 

Jeff knows it’s rough to be new to this game. Despite this, from what he heard from Claudette, this guy appears to be a natural, being level-headed through it all, quickly picking up on how to do generators and escape trials. 

“Hey man, cool scar by the way,” Jeff attempts again, “I got one just on the opposite eye, you see?” _That_ prompts the guy to finally look up and observe the artist. 

Silence numbs the mood once again and Frank bristles at his side, yet Jeff knows better. Scars often belong to people with very tough shells, but weak cores. He nudges his boyfriend with his elbow and the other takes his desired leave. Maybe he’ll do better on the killer-side of the investigation. 

“Nice beard also, guess we match in one more thing, eh?” Jeff seats himself across from him. The only response is a hum. Jeff continues: “I hope I don’t lose my hair as well when I get old,” he ends with a laugh. 

“You will once you have kids,” the man says, as it’s the most natural thing. Jeff is glad he’s not ignored anymore.

“Oh, you got a kid?” he prompts.

The chuckle that follows is grim. “I have two - a son and a daughter or, I used to at least,” he looks down at his palms, almost not believing they are his, “I fucked things up so badly for them.” 

Jeff did this whole comforting thing before. Jeff is good at this. But Jeff cannot understand this sort of pain and for once, he’s speechless. He does try, nevertheless, even if it rattles his own wounds. 

“When my pops died, I hadn’t seen him for a while,” he mutters, his voice ripe with regret. Even after all this time, some things are difficult to talk about. “I went back to his place and found that he left me his guitar. He wasn’t the best, hell, I did hate him since he was aggressive with us and divorced my ma. It was hard to accept that he had been part of my life even. It got so bad that I used to see him after I came here, telling me how horrible I was and how I resemble him, but y’know, in the end, I got help.” 

His story seems to have landed true. “What help didja get?”

At this, Jeff can’t help a fond smile. “The impatient bastard who was here before, Frank? He has been by my side, together with others. We all have each other’s backs here, killers and survivors. You too, if you ever need help, you just gotta ask for it,” he offers his speech. 

The wind rustles the leaves on the naked trees as the campfire flickers. Jeff can guess what’s about to come. The other man pulls his poncho closer, shielding himself.

“So what do you think of your old man now, after he hurt you so much?” he inquires. 

Jeff wants to consider his answer yet he needn’t to - it has been with him for so long.

“The way he left me his guitar, I want to think that, in the end, he did want to make things right. Maybe ‘cus I was a teenager then, I couldn’t understand what plagued him. Addiction, his childhood or just indifference, you name it. I know it’s not my fault for how he acted, but if I were to meet him again as I am now, I wish I could sit him down and have a talk,” he says, looking the other in the eyes. It seems like a good point to end their talk.

“I’m sure he would apologize,” the new survivor whispers as the mist closes on them. 

They are back on Coldwind farm, corn grass parting as the two men spawn together. Jeff immediately switches to survivor mode, slowly approaching a generator in the field, the other man following in his footsteps and together, they boot the machine. 

The artist picks up a sound in the distance, faintly resembling a trumpet, which urges him to ask the other.

“This trumpet killer, the young girl, do you know her? She’s been terrifying my survivor friends a lot,” he tries to state it as a matter of fact, but the other man stills at his words, incoming skill check completely missed. The generator bursts with a boom and Jeff steps away from it in order to stop the new survivor from running into danger. 

Jeff considers himself strong, but this guy is insane. Even though the artist is comically grasping his arm, the bald man moves forward, dragging him along like a ragdoll. 

“Hey, man, wait a moment, will you? Maybe you got beef with this one, but I swear she’s just a girl, probably scared and wants to be safe-”

Jeff doesn’t expect to touch an open wound with that. 

“Buddy doesn’t want to be protected or- or safe! She wants to lead her own life, she wants to rule her own land and she fucking hates me!” the man erupts, a few crows taking off immediately. His breathing is ragged and reluctantly, Jeff pulls back. 

The trumpet sounds again, this time closer and it seems as if the killer has hunted its victim. Both men can make out an amalgamation of _something_ in the distance, picking up the downed survivor and carrying them to a hook. 

As screams of a hook resound, Jeff pulls down the man in a crouch, behind some tires. He gingerly lays his palm over the survivor’s shoulder. “Look, man, I need to know how to help my friend. You said her name is ‘Buddy’, right? That’s a little unusual for a girl.”

It doesn’t seem like the broken man wants to talk anymore, yet he surprises Jeff. “Well, it’s simple. She’s my little buddy. I always called her that when she was a baby, I guess it just stuck. Brad and Buddy. It sounded so good to me,” the man reminisces, never taking his eyes off the killer in the distance. 

“So, you’re her dad?” Jeff is crouching but making his way towards the hook, Brad alongside him.

“No, I’m just Brad, just a Nobody,” he sniffs. “C’mon, let’s get your friend while I face mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game this is based on is LISA (RPG)! 
> 
> Thanks for reading this, and if you did, drop me a word in the comments, it means a lot! 
> 
> Thanks to [ Dark ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExasperantMadman) for sticking with me through this, I strongly recommend her other works.
> 
> And thanks to Inktober, I guess, for teaching me the diligence that comes with writing.


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